


Breaking Point

by Cyn, emothy



Series: Club Purgatory [1]
Category: Prince of Tennis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-16
Updated: 2009-03-16
Packaged: 2017-10-05 00:46:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyn/pseuds/Cyn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/emothy/pseuds/emothy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirihara is fifteen and has already been planning this for some time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Point

**Author's Note:**

> Earliest part in the au so far. This piece written by emothy.

-

Kirihara is fifteen and has already been planning this for some time. He had checked all of the stalls in the toilets for signs of life before having one of his explosions in the corridor outside. As usual, most of the staff ducked for cover or wandered away pretending it was nothing to do with them. The director made a fleeting pass at trying to smooth down his ruffled feathers, but Kirihara was having none of it.

"I'm not doing it," he says, almost yells. He folds his arms across his chest and tries not to grin. His entire reason for the supposed temper-tantrum is that he doesn't want to be dressed the way he is in front of the cameras; the tight pants and very fine shirt you can absolutely see through. He is fifteen, and he figures this just might be bordering on dangerous, that everyone else is encouraging him to prance about dressed like this. If he had to have anyone see him like this, there would only be one person he would want. Not the whole world. And after all, if he agreed now what might they try to push onto him next?

"Don't try to talk to me!" He bellows, spinning around on his heel. He reaches out for the toilet door, knowing what an inconvenience it will be to have practically banned everyone from this floor's amenities. "If you send anyone in at all, it will be to bring me my _regular clothes_, because I'm not doing this. Not today, not ever!"

The director's face crumples, while his assistant simply rolls her eyes and takes charge of the situation.

"Someone go and find Yanagi-san," she hisses in an aside, and five people run in five different directions to do her bidding; what she wants is what the director wants, and what the director wants must be done immediately.

Yanagi is helping himself to a bottle of water and two painkillers for his headache, planning to chase it all down with a strong coffee afterwards when the lighting technician finds him. He looks wistfully at the vending machine and mentally waves goodbye to his coffee before dismissing the tech and making his way to the toilets alone.

Kirihara is admiring himself in the mirror; he doesn't honestly care about the clothes. It was only an excuse to cause a scene. It was perfect timing, really - his curls aren't flyaway and out of control as usual, but gelled so that just a couple of flicks twist down around his eyes. The pants are dark with a bit of shine to them that makes his legs (and his butt especially) seem almost muscular, when in reality he is pretty wiry from growing up a lot faster than filling out. And the shirt, the shirt is his favourite part; it is so soft it seems to float around him rather than sit on his shoulders. He knows without looking in the mirror that his nipples are quite visible through it. The idea of everyone being able to see makes him cringe. Perhaps it wasn't all entirely an act.

He hops up onto the counter-top and sits between a couple of sinks. He begins to unbutton the shirt, and is about halfway down when Yanagi makes an entrance.

He doesn't knock, like anyone else would. Unlike everyone else, Yanagi isn't scared of Kirihara. Perhaps because he considers Kirihara's diva-like tantrums to be nothing more than childish. Perhaps he has no fear of being fired or replaced. He's right not to worry, Kirihara wouldn't want anyone else. Yanagi might treat him like an exasperated parent with an unruly child sometimes, but he then goes on to listen to Kirihara and talk things through with him to help him see more clearly and come to a logical conclusion. No-one else makes the time, or expects that inside Kirihara's head there is in fact a lot of sense and intelligence. Yanagi knows, and so he won't put up with the childishness when he knows Kirihara is capable of so much more.

"I said I didn't want anyone in here unless they were bringing me my clothes," Kirihara pouts, knowing full well that no-one else but Yanagi would have dared to step through the door.

"I may do a lot of things for you, but I refuse to be your valet," Yanagi replies. He seems to be trying very hard to keep his eyes at face height, Kirihara notes with glee. Over the past months he has tried a number of things in order to convince Yanagi to sleep with him, but he has decided this was clearly his masterplan, and that although he has steadfastly said no quickly and sharply every time, Yanagi's resolve appears to be wearing away. "Put your shirt back on and do your job."

"So you don't think there's anything wrong with this?" Kirihara asks, stretching the fabric of the open shirt across his chest and peering down at the nipple showing through. He looks back up at Yanagi, forcing him to either meet Kirihara's eyes and tell the truth, or look down at the shirt and spit out a lie. Yanagi keeps telling Kirihara that he is too young, that he doesn't know what he wants and is simply chasing Yanagi because he isn't used to being told no anymore. So if he is too young, Yanagi will have to agree with him and cancel the day's plans. Or he will have to admit everything is fine, and that Kirihara isn't a child, but a teenager full of explosive hormones that are telling him exactly what he wants, loud and clear.

"I think the leeway everyone else gives you is turning you into something dangerous," Yanagi says, stepping into Kirihara's personal space. This is a mistake. Kirihara shrugs the shirt clean off his shoulders and lets it pool around his hips. Whe he reaches up one hand to play with his nipple, he looks Yanagi directly in the eye and smirks. He feels a hand close around his wrist tightly at the exact same moment Yanagi's mouth curls into a sort of snarl. He has never been this forward with Yanagi before, and all of a sudden it seems rather than being worn down, Yanagi has ever so slowly been pushed to the edge.

Kirihara isn't the best at noticing these sorts of things, however, when he has his own goals in mind. There is a spilt-second in which Yanagi hesitates, and Kirihara uses it to brush his hand over the front of Yanagi's pants.

Luckily for them both, nobody is outside the door listening, or else they would've heard the cracking sound of Yanagi's hand slapping away Kirihara's with a lot more force than he intended. Kirihara, having never experienced a disciplining slap at any point in his life until now, can do nothing but stare wide-eyed and open-mouthed, curling his reddened hand in the other. Yanagi is just about as shocked at himself, if not more. Up until now he had never laid a violent hand on anyone else, either.

Kirihara knows for certain now that he has gone too far, but is almost too scared to move in order to get away. Yanagi tenses up in the shoulders, and Kirihara flinches but does not move, frozen in place, until it looks like something inside Yanagi has been released, and he trembles a little before breathing, "ohgod-"

Kirihara can't believe it when he feels Yanagi's mouth on his, Yanagi's hands cupping his face. His brain scrambles for a moment to resolve the idea of the same hand feeling so stinging one second, and so gentle but firm the next, but his mouth is on auto-pilot, already responding eagerly. He figures something so unexpected probably isn't going to last, and so he is going to make the most of it while he can.

Yanagi pulls away far too quickly, he feels. But it's worth it when he looks at Kirihara with those dark, unreadable eyes, and says in a very hoarse voice, "put your shirt back on". He takes a moment to compose himself, then steps out of the toilets, and Kirihara knows he has gone away only to tell the staff that Kirihara is not cooperating, and that they will reschedule for another day, without knowing how he knows. He suddenly realises he could feel the slight twitch of Yanagi's fingers against his cheek, and wonders if that was him trying to resist slipping his hand down, down Kirihara's neck, over his shoulder, down his chest-

Kirihara shivers, and finds himself jumping off the counter-top to the floor and bouncing over to the exit as though an unknown force is pulling at him. He can't help but think Yanagi didn't even stop to smooth out his shirt or tidy his hair, he just walked out there amongst all those people with no care for what he might look like, or how red and kiss-swollen his mouth might look.

He opens the door and peers out in both directions. Yanagi is making his way down the corridor alone with his jacket over one arm and Kirihara's on top of it.

"Here," he says simply, draping the jacket over Kirihara's shoulders. He places his hand, beneath it, on the small of Kirihara's back and guides him down the corridor and out of the building, but Kirihara can't stop thinking about the fact that Yanagi's hand is so close to touching his waistband as to make no difference, and that his little finger is just about to slip into his pants. Multiple times he has to remind himself to breathe.

The car ride back to Yanagi's is silent but for the radio on very low between them. Kirihara can't work out where to look, and so alternates between his lap, his feet, and Yanagi. And Yanagi's lap.

Yanagi notices very quickly, and without looking away from the road his lips spread into a grin. "You're going to put me off my driving," he murmurs, and the strain in his smile says that he couldn't stop it now if he wanted to, and that if he is going to hell he might as well go First-Class.

In Yanagi's apartment the door opens onto a large room meant for living and sleeping. There is a set of counters in the corner that indicate the kitchen area, and two doors leading off to a bathroom and was is used for a storage room respectively. All Kirihara cares about is the bed between the windows. He sits on the edge and flings his jacket off into the middle of the floor before bouncing his way back into the centre of the bed. He watches Yanagi as he takes his jacket and hangs it up, places his keys in a bowl on the table beneath the coat hooks, and flicks through his mail. He stops to open one letter and peruse it before discarding all of them onto the tabletop.

When Yanagi turns around he is already loosening the knot of his tie away from his throat. Kirihara watches silently from the bed, palms down on the sheets behind him, back sloping, and legs bent just a little at the knee.

"Well," Yanagi says, walking over to the bed, "you got me here, now what do you want to do?"

Kirihara answers him by wrapping fingers around Yanagi's tie and using it to pull their faces together until they are kissing again, and Yanagi has to use his hands to prop himself up as he kneels onto the bed. Kirihara is the one to break the kiss and lay back, just to be able to watch Yanagi on his hands and knees, padding his way up the bed with Kirihara's body under him. There are some things you never think you will see, like the way Yanagi's kneeling position makes his hair fall forward and almost cover his eyes. He watches until they are face to face again, and Kirihara lifts his head in order to meet Yanagi's lips again.

"Hmm," Yanagi smiles thoughtfully, and obliges, but before Kirihara realises it Yanagi's lips are pressed together on his in order to break away. He kisses the side of Kirihara's mouth, and then there are a series of light brushes of his lips down Kirihara's throat. He takes his time probing with his tongue for a sensitive spot, and when Kirihara's hips twitch beneath him involuntarily he attacks the patch of skin with his teeth and tongue until Kirihara is whimpering in delight. His fingers are still clutching Yanagi's tie, tugging at it ever so slightly, but he untangles them in an attempt to reach up and touch Yanagi.

"No you don't," Yanagi says, pulling away and catching Kirihara's wrists in his hands, pinning them back to the bed over his head. The soft command is enough, and when he takes away his weight, Kirihara doesn't seem troubled to be told to keep his hands where they are. Yanagi ducks his head back down and begins to unbutton Kirihara's shirt all over again in order to reveal his chest. If he is determined for this to happen, then Yanagi is determined that Kirihara's first experience will be a good one, all for him. It's important to Yanagi that it happens that way.

Kirihara understands the idea of keeping his hands still, but it doesn;t mean he can do it. He does well enough to keep from running them all over Yanagi chest and to not pull off his tie and open up his shirt, but he can't help, with Yanagi's mouth hot and persistent on his skin, heading lower, reaching down to ball up the bedsheets in his fists. Laid out on the bed the outlines of his muscles, such as they are, are more visible, and Yanagi seems to be using them as a map in order to trail his way over Kirihara's chest, down over his stomach to set the muscles beneath rippling as if running away from the light tickling sensation. When he pauses and breathes on the skin just above Kirihara's waistband Kirihara squirms expectantly, but Yanagi simply works his way back up until his tongue sweeps over a nipple.

"Ah!" Kirihara gasps out, the chill of the air prickling the spot Yanagi's tongue occupied. It almost stings until the feeling changes and shoots through him to his crotch. And then Yanagi os kissing him again, and that is all Kirihara is focusing on, until Yanagi's hand slides over his skin and his fingers seek out Kirihara's other nipple, brushing over it until he is sure he has its attention, and then circling around it to roll it through his fingers.

Kirihara's squeak is completely lost in Yanagi's mouth, but he seems to devour it and use it to spur him on. Yanagi runs his thumb over the nipple as he shifts his weight, bringing his knee up until his thigh is firmly pressed between Kirihara's   
legs.

Kirihara's eyes fly open, though he can't remember having closed them, and he squirms fiercely against the pressure. Yanagi ghosts his hand down over Kirihara's lower stomach, and Kirihara can't help but grab at Yanagi's shirt and clutch onto it tightly as he waits, feels the skin of his stomach tingling at the feather-light touch as though Yanagi is asking for permission although he already knows he has it.

Kirihara holds his breath when Yanagi reaches to his belt and unbuckles it. The button he undoes very deftly with one hand, and when Kirihara is waiting with bated breath for him to pull down the zipper, Yanagi's knee thrusts forward again just a little and rubs against him completely unexpectedly. Kirihara chokes on a gasp, and Yanagi smirks down at him.

"Just checking you were still with me," he says, and does it again. Before he knows what he is doing, Kirihara has wrapped a leg around Yanagi's and is rubbing himself furiously against Yanagi's thigh. Somehow this isn't what he wanted, nor what he had planned, but he can no longer find it in him to care, the feeling is too good. His fists are balled in Yanagi's shirt so tight the knuckles are going white, and the shirt may have fist-shaped crease stains forever afterwards, and that is only if he hasn't made fingernail sized rips in it.

Yanagi doesn't seem concerned, either at the shirt, or the lack of his hand in Kirihara's pants. Instead he covers Kirihara's body with his own in order for his thigh to press against Kirihara heavily, and uses his hands to play with both of Kirihara's nipples at the same time. He purposely pinches in order to send the message of little painful sparks to Kirihara's brain, and it isn't long before Kirihara's breathing is getting speedier and more erractic. His face is pink with pleasure, and Yanagi knows before Kirihara does when he is about to come.

A groan escapes Kirihara's lips, but only part of it gets out into the air before Yanagi's mouth is over his again. And then Kirihara is too caught up in the kiss to worry about the stain spreading across his pants, and comes down nice and easy.

"More?" He says afterwards, and Yanagi laughs.

"Not right now," he says, climbing off of Kirihara a little awkwardly. His situation isn't beyond Kirihara, and he crawls over to Yanagi who is sitting on the edge of the bed. He reaches under Yanagi's arms and tidily unbuttons his shirt as Yanagi sits and does nothing but breathe, as though he is waiting on himself to see what he will do. Kirihara peels back the shirt to reveal Yanagi's shoulders, and begins to press kisses to Yanagi's skin. This is nothing like before, when he was being outrageous and the attention was unwanted. This time, Yanagi is letting him, and he lets out what seems to be a deep, cleansing breath, which gives Kirihara more confidence. He reaches around Yanagi's waist and feels along to the middle of his belt, unbuckling it quite easily even without sight. Yanagi's hands cover his to still them.

"You don't have to do this now," he says, and Kirihara is almost offended.

"Well," he says airily, "I suppose I can just go and find someone else to show me this stuff..."

"No," Yanagi says with one firm exhale, and tightens his hands over Kirihara's in a way that ask him to stay. "If anyone gets into trouble for this, it will only be me."

-


End file.
